


Tiny Stitches

by ancalime8301



Series: Spencer Stories [7]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, The Great Mouse Detective (1986)
Genre: Cats, Crossover, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancalime8301/pseuds/ancalime8301
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson witnesses an encounter between Spencer and Dr. Dawson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiny Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/)**watsons_woes** July Writing Prompt #7: _It's crossover time! Incorporate at least one other character from another fictional universe or from actual history. Crack is just fine for this prompt._  
>  Inspired by those readers who were concerned that Spencer might have eaten Basil or Dawson or Mrs. Judson.

It was not unusual for Spencer to be absent when I first woke up; cats have their routines just as humans do and Spencer's morning usually began with Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen. But when I had finished dressing and he still had not appeared, I wondered what he'd gotten himself into this time. He might have gotten himself locked out of the house (it had already happened twice), shut in the pantry (which had happened at least five times to my knowledge), or stuck somewhere when his curiosity led him into a space that his body could not fit (which had not happened yet, but was increasingly likely given that he had grown a bit since I took him in a month ago).

As I made my way downstairs, I heard a plaintive meow and assumed that Spencer needed assistance out of whatever fix he'd found himself in. The meow seemed to originate from the sitting room, so I hurried my steps and glanced into the room. What I saw stopped me in my tracks.

Spencer was sitting on the hearth, one of his front paws extended toward what looked like a fat mouse. But he wasn't swatting it and, what's more, the mouse was standing on its hind legs and wearing a tiny coat.

Surely I was still asleep.

But rubbing my eyes and advancing several steps into the room did not banish the apparition and instead multiplied it, for now I also saw a very lean mouse standing near a shadow on the wall and . . . beckoning to the other mouse. The first mouse took a few steps back and I thought he was retreating, but after Spencer licked his paw the mouse returned to its previous position.

Utterly fascinated by the scene before me, I did not move any further. Holmes must have already left for the day or he'd be observing this animal encounter most closely.

It was perhaps five minutes before the fat mouse heeded the lean mouse's urging and scurried toward the wall, instantly vanishing from sight. Spencer ignored them, preferring to set his chin on his outstretched leg. I retrieved him from the hearth and set him on my lap, holding him so I could examine his paw.

The large pad had been torn, possibly by a mouse defending itself, but it was no longer bleeding. Looking closely at the damage, I cried out in surprise when I saw tiny stitches along the tear.

"Spencer," I said, releasing his paw and stroking him from nose to tail, "sometimes I really wish you could talk."

Spencer meowed as if agreeing with me.


End file.
